


Bag Of Bones No. 3

by soncnica



Series: kosti!verse [11]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Abused Jensen, Abusive Parents, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Summer Camp, Child Abuse, Explicit Language, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mention of Panic Attacks, Older Jared, Psychologist Jared, Questional Psychological Tactics, Younger Jensen, not really a summer camp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 05:21:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6840580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soncnica/pseuds/soncnica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared hasn't been the psychologist at Camp Gamble long. He always wanted to work with kids - troubled kids - but now it looks like he might be in over his head. Jensen is 16, Jared is 26</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bag Of Bones No. 3

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I seriously only own the grammar/spelling mistakes. Everything else is NOT MINE! ALL IS FICTION.
> 
> PLEASE READ: After a comment I received on a story in this verse, I remembered that I forgot to put an EXTRA WARNING on this verse, so here it is: I, and everyone in the story, are very much aware that what needs to be done in cases like these is call the proper authorities and report the parents. But that being said, as you may have noticed I'm writing this from Jared's and Jensen's POV and no one else's in the story. And as you also may have noticed I'm writing this at snail pace, as in, I'm writing without any time skips or anything like that. So ... you see where I'm going with this!? I can't say what someone else in the story is doing or what will happen next from someone else's perspective. I think everyone reading this will just have to trust me. Thank you! And please if you aren't okay with any of this, please stop reading as I don't want to hurt anyone. That is not the intent of this story. Thank you!

                                                                      

 

By the time the camp will end, he's seriously gonna get so tired of stepping through the door into this room. He'd been inside for probably hundred of times since he started working at the camp when he was still in college, and it's just … just always the same. Nothing ever changes. Bed, windows, a closet, chairs - well those get added if the kids make new ones in the workshops – and a spare bed folded up and tucked between the closet and the wall, collecting dust.

Wood on wood.

It's cozy, he has to give it that, it has this sense of warmth in it, but it's just so clean, so sterile, so hospital like that sometimes he wishes it had more … life … in it. More comfort. Be more of a mess. Just more of something, deeper, soothing, free. Something these kids need. Something that'll make them forget that they're in the med cabin, laying on the bed for eyes to dissect every move they make and will make.

He'd told Mike so many times before to make something more of the room, but he said that he doesn't want the kids to be so comfortable in the room to make them stay too long.

He shakes his head. Mike's a good guy, loves kids, loves taking care of them, would probably rather cut of his arm than harm a child, but sometimes, the man's logic is just plain weird. Maybe he should discuss this with Gen. Maybe he can discuss it with Jamie and her kids can do more paintings, or something. Just something, because he never wants to find himself lying on that bed. Never.

-:-

Bad things go into this room, sometimes good things come out, but most of the time, things leave the room in the same messed up state. Not a pinch healthier, not an inch stronger.

And looking at Marcus ... he hopes his plan's gonna work and something good will happen and that the kid will leave this room better, not completely healed like Jared wants - that's a pipe dream of all pipe dreams - but better. Just a pinch better. Maybe even smiling. Maybe.

-:-

Marcus' laying on his back, with his head turned away from the door, staring at the wall, as if it would bring him answers to all the questions running through his mind; Jared knows there are questions, because a boy of thirteen has questions. Life's always like that, but finding answers to those questions is so hard, Jared wants to bang his head against the wall; it would be easier to deal with that pain, than the pain of just not having any replies.

The boy is awake, moist eyes blinking rapidly, probably still a bit groggy from sleeping and maybe still from the pills, even if Mike said they'd been mild. For some kids, mild isn't mild at all, but strong enough to kill a horse.

His long arms are lying on top of the pristine white cover that's pulled up to his mid-chest; delicate, freckled fingers playing with the thin fabric. He looks so small. Tiny and scared like a little mouse, like any sudden noise will make him either cry or scramble to hide under the covers. His chest is rising up and falling down fast, maybe too fast but maybe once they'll talk, the kid will calm down a bit and start to relax and breathe easier.

Because he can't witness another panic attack from any of the kids. Not yet. Not without some food warming his belly and firing up any brain cells that the shower hadn't woken up. The ones Jensen's having are enough to put him in an early grave, and if he'd have to get Marcus through one right now, he'd puke.

Panic attacks are the worst for him to see. Gen used to have them all the time, sometimes she passed out, other times she calmed down before anything _horrible_ could happen, but most of the time, watching her gasp for air and all but seize on the floor made him sick.

But he braved through it, because he promised he'd stand by her no matter what.

And he swore he would stand by any child in need of help. Panic attacks or no, he'd never ever not be there. It's why he educated himself a lot on them; he knows the signs, knows what happens with one's body and mind, knows how to help, if he can help at all. And that needs to be enough.

-:-

He has to step into the room now, he has to stop staring at the kid, because he's starting to creep himself out. It's so hard, that line of what is perv territory and what is "'m just trying to help you" in his profession. Maybe women have it easier. Maybe not. But he chose this, he chose to be a child psychologist and fuck everyone, but he will do his very best to help. He swore he would and he will. But the line will always be there, mocking him and sometimes - he knows this with such certainty - it will prevent him from doing his job and maybe ... he will loose a child to death, because of that line.

Goddamn fucking ... fuck.

He swears a lot, his mom would slap him, but it's his outlet. That and running. Many great minds would tell him all kinda theories about why he runs, but really, he knows exactly why he does it and yes, they all would be right.

It's an outlet, a way for him to get away from everything faster than he would if he'd walk, and sometimes he needs to get away real fast. Away from his thoughts, his always buzzing mind, from his job, the kids and the adults ... run away towards clarity. Towards innocence that all the kids he deals with, had lost a long time ago. He doesn't want to lose it too.

He wishes he could run right now, because just watching Marcus lay limp like that, looking like a new born kitten, stripped of all the innocence he should still have, makes his chest ache and a lump form in his throat.

But he's not a wuss, he doesn't back down and away and will never leave a child to suffer alone. Not if he can help.

So he clears his throat, which is always a good tactic to announce your presence without giving someone a stroke - and it's a good way to un-stuck the lump in the middle of his throat. He forces his voice into cheerfulness, his lips to split his face with a smile and his eyes to be calm and gentle.

"Hey kiddo."

Marcus' head turns towards him with such speed, Jared is scared the boy tore something in his neck, but the grin that appears on his face says all is fine: "Mr. P! You came back!"

He chuckles through the lump that suddenly came back. He knows that Marcus thought he won't ever come back, even if he said he will and even if everyone else said he will, but the boy had been left alone far too many times. First his real mother, then countless foster families. All the kid knows is being left alone in a place that's just never home. And that never will be.

"Of course 'm back, buddy."

The light that crosses the kid's eyes beneath the glasses is pure happiness and it hurts. To be happy because someone actually came back when promised.

"How're you doin', huh?"

He steps closer to the bed and sits down on it, at the very edge, but still close enough to touch Marcus if necessary, yet still far away to not invade. He'd sit on the chair, but something just … makes him be closer. Maybe just in case the kid will shatter into pieces and he will have to act quickly to glue them back together before any piece will get lost forever.

Marcus lowers his eyes, the right one closing completely, the muscles too weak to work properly right now and the grin fades like someone snatched it away. He answers with a simple whispered: "Fine."

_Fine? Nothing is fine, Marcus. It's not fine._

He nods and asks: "Still sleepy?"

Marcus mutters to his chest: "No, slept enough."

He wants Marcus to look at him and see him, see that he really is here and here for him.

"Hungry?"

"No."

"Thirsty?"

"Jamie brought me some juice."

He points to a small table at his left, where a little white plastic cup is the only thing on it.

The room is just so lonely. So, so very lonely. It hadn't been last night when he had been here with Jensen. The room had been warm and nice, if filled with pain, but it hadn't felt this lonely. Even the noises from outside, those happy noises of kids playing and talking and walking and laughing, it's like they can't penetrate this loneliness.

It's Marcus. It's his ... aura, his soul, him. He emits loneliness, because there's nothing else he knows of his life. If he'd know love and care, he'd radiate that. Probably.

"She annoyed you much?"

"No, she was real nice, she's always real nice. We talked about Harry Potter. She knows a lot."

_Thank you, Jamie._

"I bet she does. I just know Ron's her favorite."

"Mine's Hermione, she's smart. And cute."

He laughs and his laugh makes Marcus blush and grin and then outright laugh. But it's so good to laugh, so good to know Marcus can laugh, can joke, can be so like every thirteen year old.

"She is. Smart like you, huh?"

"She knows magic, I don't."

"Everyone knows magic."

"Na-ah, I don't. You don't."

Well, some might argue that probably, but seriously, he really isn't doing anything. His mom just taught him a few things on how to make someone more relaxed, maybe get one to become ... sleepy. But it's not magic, not hypnosis. His mom wasn't a magician or anything. It's just something her grandma taught her and she taught him. And he won't abuse that knowledge, because his mom made him promise and promises are sacred.

He clasps his hands: "Heh, got me there, buddy."

A kid yells _screw you_ at someone outside and gets a _no swimming for you today_ in return and the whole thing makes him snort. Kids.

"Mr.P?"

He looks at Marcus and tries to not see the kid's eyes. One partially blind and one barely able to see. Fuck.

"Yeah?"

"'m not as smart as Hermione, but ... but I'm not stupid either, right?"

He looks down at Marcus' arm that's lying by his right side, the kid's fingers almost reaching Jared's hip and he puts his right hand on the forearm.

So small. Skin over bones and he wonders if the kid has any muscles at all. He'd felt those arms around his neck when he'd been carrying Marcus here, and the grip had been strong, but when he really touches and feels the bones under his palm ... he starts to doubt if the kid had really been holding him that strongly before or if it had just been his imagination.

"No kiddo," he whispers, because any noise would break his voice in two, "you're not."

Sadness so strong, he thinks he's gonna choke on it suddenly wraps around him like darkness after the sun goes down and he just doesn't know anything anymore. He looks out the window that's cut into the wall behind the bed, and sees the trees swing in the breeze. The sun is horribly hot today, and he wants to join everybody by the lake. Go for a swim, get wrapped up in the stupid algae that according to Mike aren't poisonous and aren't gonna kill him if he touches them. He wants to lie down on the pier and stare up at the clouds.

"Mr. P?"

The forearm under his palm shifts and he rubs it a bit. It's warm and alive and the bones under the skin shift. He looks back down at Marcus' face, getting rid of all the 'I want's', because sometimes you just can't get what you want.

"Yeah?" he whispers back.

"You sad?"

The kid's voice cracks on the two short words, like they mean more than they do. Like they mean everything the kid's world is, like they are him and he's just too scared to say them out loud. Saying them out loud, makes them real. Makes everything more solid.

-:-

He wants to laugh so badly, laugh until tears will start rolling down his cheeks, but he can't get anything past the ever present lump in his throat.

He smiles. Softly. Just so that it reaches his eyes, because smiles always have to reach your eyes, even the painful ones.

"Naw kiddo, 'm just disappointed that I can't do magic." he rasps and wishes that he possessed a better sense of humor, but damn it, he doesn't know what to say to this kid, who has been walked on and kicked to the curb so many times. He just doesn't know. All he has is half-assed comfort and stupid, fucking lies.

"Can't do magic either."

He squeezes Marcus' forearm lightly, because he doesn't want to break any bones and give the kid a broken arm that will go awesomely with his broken mind and his broken eyesight.

"Listen," he taps the kid's arm and bites his lower lip, "Marcus..."

And the way the kid looks at him, with eyes so huge - his right eye half open too, as if that's all it can muster the strength to do - and shiny behind his glasses and a look of such complete faith and trust ... fuck.

He needs to tell him that Gary's gonna come soon, but how? How? Best way - because kids appreciate honesty in a world where they almost never get it and if they do it's so brutal on their souls it makes them crack - is to just say it.

"I, uh, I asked Gary to come here, uh, after he'll finish his punishment."

There. Said with hoping for the best. Because his plan has got to succeed. Needs to. Or else ...

-:-

The kid starting to rise up in bed, his eyes glazing over with panic and the desire to run, run, run, was expected, but whoah, not this bad, not this fast. He grabs Marcus by his upper arms and holds tight. Almost restraining, but he doesn't wanna think that. It's not restraining, it's not and he hates the word, doesn't like to say it or think about it. Except, right now ... it's exactly what he's doing. Restraining, holding back, pushing away, pulling forward.

"Whoah, Marcus, come on, it's okay. Listen, he won't hurt you. Okay? It's okay. I'll be here, I won't leave you. I swear I won't leave."

The kid's eyes clear up a bit, his left one blinking rapidly, while his right one is lazily rolling around seeing nothing.

"Marcus, focus. Come on."

He squeezes the kid's arms a bit tighter, nothing that would leave any marks, no bruises or anything. He's conscious of his strength, and he'd rather die, than hurt anyone, especially a child.

The panic goes away a bit, he can see in the way Marcus' eyes clear up, start looking normal, but the kid's whole body weight is leaned into his hold. Into his arms. All of the kid's trust is given to him, even after saying all that.

"Marcus?" he whispers and winces at how this half turned position is pulling on his back. But his pain is nothing compared to this kid's fear.

"Why?"

Marcus' lips are trembling, so close to crying, so close his left eye is filled with tears and his whole face pulled into a grimace of pure suffering.

"Because I think you two have something in common, 's all."

It's amazing how kids can go from one thing to another in point one millisecond. Marcus' whole face changes into confusion and a little bit of interest. And it's okay. It's great. It's something he can work with.

"What?"

He wants to say 'dark lives, fucked up lives, weaknesses and faults and fucked up childhood and no light in sight', but he doesn't think Marcus will appreciate that. Or maybe fully understand, because sometimes one can't understand things even if they are right there. Sometimes especially if they are right there. Closeness clouds judgment, his mom used to say. How right she was.

"A lot of things, but ... he needs someone to listen to him and you need someone to talk to. Right? Huh?"

It's the truth. The other truth, not the one he really wants to say. But it's the truth either way. The ugly, painful truth and he can feel Marcus trying to pull himself away from him, squirm out of his grasp, away out of his hands. The kid wants to turn away from him, he knows, he wants to shut off from the world. But he won't have that. Not with Marcus and not with Jensen and not with anyone. He didn't tolerate that with Gen and he sure as hell won't tolerate shutting away from the world from the kids. He understands the need, he does, but he won't allow it. There will be no escaping from the world, no shutting down from it, no retreating into their minds. It's dangerous and he has seen so many, too many, children retreat so far into their minds, that they were lost forever.

There will be no escaping him. No escaping the world, even if the world is pain and sadness and terror.

He does, sometimes, ask himself, why he doesn't just allow the kids to retreat inside themselves. They probably have a better life in their heads, no pain and hurt and fear and horror. They probably see color and light and love and peace. He does wonder why, because sometimes it would be a more humane thing to do, but then he thinks of Gen. How with all that had happened to her; rape, verbal abuse, being beaten close to death, suicide. And she overcame all that. She's living now, functioning out there in the world and he has to believe, trust and hope that the kids he's working with will do the same. One day, live out there and just ... live better.

"Marcus, hey, hey, hey... come on, it's gonna be fine. I'll be here, I promise and if he'll say or do anything, I'll send him back out there to find more toilets to clean, I swear. I swear it, buddy."

He chases the kid's eyes that are shooting all over the room, like a stray bullet, and he shakes him a little, just a little, nothing too dangerous, just so that he gets his attention.

"Marcus … I swear."

When he finally, finally has the kid's eyes on his, he can see that they are watery, but tears have been sucked in and are a long way coming now.

"Okay?"

"Yeah," Marcus nods, "okay Mr.P."

The trust is burning so hot; he could melt a path to Australia through the Earth's core.

"Okay?" he asks as he's lowering Marcus slowly and carefully back to lie flat on the bed, like he's putting a baby to sleep.

"Okay?"

The kid nods and lets his arms fall down at his side, offering. And Jared puts his hand back on it. It's warm and alive and trembling. But it's gonna be okay.

"His punishment was to clean the toilets?"

The scrunched up nose in disgust brings a smile to both their faces.

"Yeah, and don't tell him this, but he did a darn good job with 'em too."

The giggle is more than he expected and he feels warm again, just like he did when he won the fight with Gen. This is good.

"So, we have some time to kill, before he gets here. What you wanna do?"

"Is Jensen gonna come too?"

Crap. He hadn't expected that. He wanted to talk about … well … anything else but that, or maybe play a game or two. And now he knows how his patients feel when they don't wanna talk about what they don't wanna talk. Crap.

"Jensen is…" he hesitates. Truth or lie? Truth or lie? He had never lied to a kid before, sure he bent the truth a bit from time to time, but lied? Outright lied? Never. And everything he told Marcus up until now, had been truth, so ...

"… with his cabin leader. Think they're by the lake, so probably not. Maybe he'll come check on you later."

"Oh."

The kid looks heartbroken. Betrayed. Devastated.

But it's for the best. In the long run, or maybe ten minutes after spending time with Gary, he's gonna forget all about Jensen and him being his hero.

The plan has to work, fucking damnit. It has to.

"Anything else you wanna do? Play a game? Or, uh, anything?"

He won't pressure him. He won't ask directly about what happened and how the kid feels about it, because he already knows. And Marcus isn't suicidal. Not anymore. He can feel it in the way Marcus' arm is completely relaxed under his palm, his body sunk into the mattress.

The kid fixes his glasses awkwardly with his left hand: "Not really."

"Marcus, you sure 'bout that? 'cause 'm here, right here."

He squeezes the forearm resting comfortably and lax under his hand, for reassurance.

There's something, he knows there is, because the kid won't meet his eyes again. And he's tense everywhere else but his arm. And the lip he starts to chew on, to stop the words that are trying to come, from coming is starting to get red and bruised.

"Marcus..."

"Gary ... said ... he, uhhhh..."

He's gonna wait this out. He won't put words in the kid's mouth, because they have to come by themselves. He'll wait, no matter how long it will take. He will wait.

"Gary said I was good for..."

He will wait it out. Allow the kid to say whatever he has to say in his own pace.

"... forsuckingcock."

A blush spreads all over Marcus' cheeks, nose, ears, neck, forehead and he tries to hide himself by wiping his eyes with his free hand. He bumps his glasses further up his nose, the sound the plastic makes is so loud, Jared is sure something broke there, but no, it's all good when they fall back on their place.

Shit.

"Marcus..."

Words get stuck in his throat.

"Jensen said that's something girls do to boys and sometimes boys do to other boys but I ... don't know. It sounds gross. Why would I do that?"

He swallows. Jensen. Sure the kid is sixteen, he probably has some experience, but if he's doped up on pills all the time, how ... and his parents are probably keeping him locked in the house ...

He thinks he's gonna throw up. He never ... the kid never said anything about ... he's gonna puke. He is going to puke all over the bed. His stomach is twisting, screaming ... he takes a deep breath. Internet. Porn, Jensen probably has access to that, right? Television. School. Yeah, yeah ... the kid is sixteen, he learned that from television. Internet. School and other people. Kids talk about it a lot, its hormones and, yeah, yeah. That's it.

He relaxes. School, internet, TV. Maybe his brother.

He'll still have to ask Jensen, though. Sure it's something kids nowadays know of at like age ten or so, but still ... if he won't ask, the question will burn a hole in his stomach and brain and not allow him to breathe. He'll have to ask.

He really feels like puking, even if his stomach is completely empty.

"Jensen said anything else?"

"No, just told me that it's not true and that I should just ignore everything that comes out of Gary's motherfucking mouth."

He gulps. Jensen and his cussing. He and Clara, the girl who has a worse mouth on her than any sailor and throws swear words and insults at people every chance she gets, could met up, exchange and compare their knowledge of cuss words. That would be a doozy.

"Yes, yeah, he's right. Just not ... not cussing, uh, don't swear. It's ... just don't. But yeah, Jensen was right."

Marcus' bad eye twitches and a tear slips out. Slides down his temple and into his ear.

"'s okay, buddy. Don't ... don't over think things."

"Okay."

He wipes his eyes again and re-adjusts his glasses.

"Okay, buddy?"

"Yeah..."

"O..."

He wants to say okay, but a rustling sound from the doorway stops him and when he looks up at the door, there's Gary.

He looks broken. Tired. Apologetic. His shoulders are slumped, his fingers are playing with the wet ends of his shirt, his eyes are open wide as if in surprise and he's twitchy, doesn't know how to stand still on his two feet.

Good.

"Hey, Gary. Come in, sit."

The kid drags his legs like a snail, but eventually sits down on the chair that seems to always be present there by the side of the bed. That always seems to be occupied by someone.

That ain't no lonely chair. Maybe never will be.

He can feel the arm under his palm twitch and stiffen, but when he looks at Marcus, his eyes are fixed on Gary. He's like an animal ready to run in case the big, bad wolf decides to attack.

He can't believe he just brought a big, bad wolf here. Sometimes he should think his plans through more carefully.

"So Gary, I heard you have something to say."

There's silence. And Gary chewing on his bottom lip. There's defiance there in his eyes, Jared can read it so clearly, he knows Marcus doesn't see it, but he can. If Gary will screw this up, he will put Gary down for counseling hours every day for three hours a day, he swears to God he will. Because two can play this game and Jared is a pro.

"Sss… sorry."

The word is mumbled, whispered and said down at his lap, but Marcus relaxes his arm. He knows he's safe.

"It's okay." Marcus whispers.

The ability kids have to hurt and harm and twist someone's heart and mind shocks him, but what shocks him even more is their ability to forgive. Never forget, but forgive.

But he will not give Gary such an easy way out. He won't because of Marcus.

"What are you sorry for, Gary?"

The kid's head snaps up and he looks at him with _'what? You gonna make me say it? Unfuckingbelievable'_

He smirks back, _'fuck yeah 'm gonna make you say it'._

It's a battle of wills and dirty looks, that Marcus probably only understands half of it. But it's okay, as long as Gary understands it all.

"'m sorry for calling you a dweeb."

"What else?"

"Sorry for saying you were..."

"What Gary?"

"... mentally challenged." The kid grits through his teeth like the words hurt him. As they should.

"Anything else?"

He will not give up. He knows its hurting Marcus to hear all of this again, but it's hurting Gary to say it too, and its okay. Shit like this is supposed to hurt.

"Sss...ssorry I called you a four eyed retard."

"And?"

The stink eye he gets makes him snort inside, because ' _kid, I'm no quitter and you aren't one either'_.

"'m sorry, okay! Fuckin' sorry. I didn't ... didn't mean to, but Nick was paying you all the attention and he wouldn't listen to me and ... 'm sorry!"

The kid is halfway out of his chair and okay, it's enough.

"Okay, Gary," he reaches a hand towards Gary, to push him back into the chair, because he can't allow him to escape, "its okay. Sit down, alright? It's okay."

The kid sits down, breathing hard as if he just ran a mile up the mountain. He's beat red in his face and close to ... crying?

"Gary," he waits for the kid to look at him, "its okay."

"It is."

The tiny, broken whisper makes them both look at Marcus who's watching them with both eyes wide open, even if his right one is a bit on the drowsy side.

"'m sorry."

"Okay."

-:-

Its awkward then. Just suddenly the air around them feels awkward. Gary is sitting on the chair and looking down at his hands that are twisting and turning the end of his shirt, Marcus is restless and twitchy and Jared's holding onto Marcus' forearm like he doesn't know how to let go. He doesn't want to let go, because what if this is Marcus' last touch he will experience out of kindness? The last touch that means nothing more and nothing less than comfort? How do you let go?

Little does he know that the next touch Marcus will get from an adult, will hurt and hurt and hurt some more, until he'll lay on the asphalt covered ground twisting and writhing and bleeding into his death.

-:-

He wants to go for a run. Right now; up the path where he chased after Jensen for the first time. He likes that path.

"So, uh, Marcus here's just been telling me his favorite Harry Potter character is Hermione."

It's the worst conversation start in all history, because a) he just told Gary that Marcus is a Harry Potter fan and Gary might not be, b) he probably just gave Gary teasing material for two weeks for sure, c) Gary might start laughing d) Gary doesn't read books, e) Gary doesn't have access to books and f) do kids still read those books? and g) and this one is a point one percent chance, that maybe Gary likes Harry Potter too?

"No way, Harry rules. I mean the books have his name on them, so..."

Its g) then. Fucking hell, his heart might have just stopped there for a second. Yet, how can Gary call Marcus a four-eyed dweeb, if his favorite character is Harry? Kids. He will always try to understand them, but he will never truly understand them.

-:-

And then they bicker. They fight. They rant. They talk about books and TV shows and movies. They talk for almost an hour. Laugh. And talk. And it's so freeing to listen to this. Two kids bitching about movies and video games and comics.

Normal. He wishes that normal could remain even after they'll leave camp.

His plan actually worked. It worked.

He still wants to go for a run, though. So badly.

-:-

When he leaves them they don't even notice him going. No _goodbye Mr. P_ , no _see ya later Mr.P_ , no _where you going Mr.P_. No. Just banter and laughter.

"So? That was your plan?"

He nearly jumps ten feet high when Mike's voice creeps up on him from behind. He turns around and sees the guy stepping out of the bathroom.

"Seriously dude, heart attack, jeezus, man."

"Drama queen."

"Yeah well, I don't think you'd want me laying in one of the beds here recuperating from a coronary. Gen would rip you apart."

"Ugh, yeah ... crap."

Victory.

"But seriously, getting them to be friends was your plan? What about Jensen?"

"Trust me, when he'll find out, he'll be happy."

Mike shakes his head and rubs his chin:"I don't know, man."

He sighs: "Just, trust me. And keep an eye on those two, okay?"

"Where you goin'?"

"Food, I need food. My stomach is eating itself."

"Mmm, well okay."

"I'll be in my cabin if anything happens, okay? Got some papers to do, kids to deal with, the usual..."

"Sure, will do."

"Awesome, always knew I could count on ya."

"Just get out of my cabin."

-:-

The heat is like a wall he crashes into when the steps out of the cabin and lets the door bang shut behind him. It makes him stumble like a drunken man home from an open bar, but he rights himself quickly and runs a hand down his face.

"Fuck." He whispers to himself, because it's hot. It's seriously hot and the woods and the proximity of water ain't helping. At all.

He starts to sweat even before he's three steps away from the door.

"Shit…"

By this rate, he'll be dripping with sweat by the time he'll get to the 'eat and puke' cabin. Ugh.

-:-

There are some kids walking down paths that are like blood vessels of the camp site; they go up and down small bumps and criss-cross in weird ways, he never really understood how and where and why, he just follows them and trust them that they will lead him the right way.

Some lead down to the lake, some lead deeper into the woods, but they all go from cabin to cabin.

The huge trees provide shade, the leaves and needles a soft ground to walk on, some wayward roots provide excellent ways to fall and trip, some bushes provide good hiding spots. All in all, the camp is beautiful and he never wants to spend his summers anywhere else.

But he knows he will have to. This is his last summer here. He has a job waiting for him in the city. A good job. A job he worked his ass off to get.

His last summer here.

His last chance to help these kids. And he does help them. Some of them. The ones who really want help. Who really give themselves to him, trust him.

He still gets letters from kids he helped years ago, when he was still so wet behind his ears, he thought he'd never get dry. But apparently he did well, because they all talk about how they made something of themselves. Went to school, college, got a degree, a job. Got a life, that wasn't pain and suffering. But was a life full of happiness. Sadness too, but that's just how life is. Can't have happiness without a little bit of sadness.

He's gonna miss this camp so much; it's been his lifeline for a long time, been his learning ground for a long time too. He learned so much here, dealing with these children, more than he even would in just school. He learned realness that shocked him out of any fantasy he ever had. But still, he holds on to innocence, he holds on to some fantasies he had, because without them, not even running would help him escape.

Maybe he will visit the camp, if he will get some vacation days next summer. Maybe he will do just that.

And maybe his very last thing he will ever do here will be to help Jensen. He already helped Marcus and Gary, they will be fine, he can tell, he knows they will be. At least while they are at camp. What's gonna happen to them out there in the real world, he doesn't know. Suspects, but its all speculations and speculations never caught the rabbit before. He just has to hope that, as with the kids he gets letters from, Gary and Marcus will create a life for themselves.

But Jensen. There's still so much work to do there.

"Jared!"

He turns around at the sound of his name being yelled – he'd told the kids to call him by his name, yet some call him Mr. P, and some Jared. It's all about their comfort zone, and he's okay with it.

"Hey!"

He smiles and stops walking, letting Jensen to catch up with him. He's … not wet.

"Weren't you supposed to be by the lake?"

"Uh … no."

"You lying?"

"Uh … no, I was with Jamie, she said she needed some help with some boxes and I volunteered."

"Okay."

"I was just on my way to see Marcus."

Shit.

"Listen … Gary's with him. He needed to apologize and now they're talking about Batman versus Superman. The last I heard, Batman was winning."

"Wh… you… why ... Gary? Why did you let that fucking asshole with Marcus?!"

It isn't the reaction he wanted, but he was expecting it.

"Jensen, hear me out here…"

"You left them alone?!"

The kid is already turning around, trying to run to Mike's and probably beat the living crap out of Gary. Or maybe just to make sure that Gary hadn't done anything to Marcus yet.

"Jensen, listen, just hear me out here…"

The kid is fuming. Red in the face, fire in his eyes, steam coming out of his ears, the whole nine yards, but he's still there and paying attention.

"Jensen, Marcus needs someone to talk to, right?"

He waits for the nod to come and it does.

"Gary needs someone to listen to him and hear him. Understand?"

A nod. Slower now. 

"Do you understand that?"

_Do you understand how dangerous it would be if you'd be Marcus' friend? Gary's enemy? Do you understand that being Marcus' friend would break you? How it would only bring you pain and sadness and nothing in between?_

"Jensen, you need to …"

"Yeah, yeah I know. I can't … Marcus is a good kid, he doesn't need anyone, especially not me."

He sighs.

"Jensen, no, look, 'm not saying don't be his friend, 'm just saying don't be his ... person he relies on. You understand me? He has to ... he has to learn to be his own person, he shouldn't fall on you, when things would get too hard, understand? That won't do him any good in the long run and it won't do you any good either. You won't be there all the time, understand? He has to learn to be his own person. He has to learn to be strong for himself. You hear me?"

"Yeah, I know. I … I know."

"Do you? Do you know? Jensen?"

"I, yeah, I understand."

He steps closer to the kid, and squints against the sun that's shining directly into his eyes.

"Jensen, do you?"

The kid looks at him. His eyes ... yeah, he understands. Its written all over his face, in his eyes, in the way he's breathing, in the way he's squaring his shoulders and raising his head up high, pushing out his chest. He understands, but Jared isn't sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing right now.

"Jensen?"

"I get it, alright, just lay off, man."

Fire and ice. Cold and hot.

-:-

He gets it; he just wishes the shrink would get off his case. Marcus shouldn't need anyone, just like he shouldn't need anyone. He shouldn't need Jared, shouldn't need Josh, shouldn't need anyone, because they won't always be there. He understands. He has to deal with shit alone, alone, alone and not depend on anyone.

He squeezes his fingers into sweaty fists, thumps them against his thighs and bumps into the shrink on his way to the 'eat and puke' cabin.

"I get it, fuckin' leave me 'lone."

He grumbles while almost spinning Jared around when their arms meet.

He isn't angry, not at the whole Marcus thing, because he really, really understands, he's just pissed that now, now Jared knows what's going on in his head.

And the shrink will want to talk.

Fucking hell. He doesn't want to talk and beat this crap into fucking prefactors, but he knows when the shrink gets something in his head, he sticks to it.

Just like him.

-:-

"Jensen!" he yells after the kid, but he's already run into the 'eat and puke' cabin.

He takes a deep breath, looks up at the blue sky and mutters to himself: "Well, alrighty then, that went well."

Still so much work to do with Jensen. And only three more weeks to do it.

 

**The End (more soon)**


End file.
